Day of The Dead
A Song For Mother
I sing, I sing, for it hurts to cry
And the “why?” rings in my mind;
with my hands I recreate beauty
and that is why I sing and sing so much…
…so much like a sorrowful night
that amid nature’s aroma
the moaning of music is purity
that sprouts out of the words of my song.
I am seduced be the sensation, so beautiful
of reliving the brief journey
that is a star’s cry.
It is my reminiscent Love letter;
I know that my song reaches her
Because I lay my soul in her memory.